


Tales From Post-Apocalyptia

by Megglytuff



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, dumb assholes in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megglytuff/pseuds/Megglytuff
Summary: The idea was to send three cars out: two flanked the sides, right and left, and one went down the middle to grab what they needed while the outside cars created a distraction. It was a solid plan; Token had been the mastermind so of course it was a good plan. Token had the best head on his shoulders of their ragtag group.So it’s dubious as to why Token chose Tweek to be one of the main people in the middle car.He jumps out of the car, bandanna pulled up and over his mouth, safety goggles down over his eyes, and grips his baseball bat tightly. He’s got a lot of zombie kills, he pretty proficient with a bat and is thankful his mom encouraged him to play baseball for a couple of years in middle school. It was something he was surprisingly good at. But he's still a spaz, still nervous every time they do this.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Tales From Post-Apocalyptia

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,  
> I've been working on this story in one form or another for like 5 years? I finally completed it, only to have another part with Butters/Kenny pop into my head. So there will be two chapters, maybe more. This first chapter is strictly Tweek/Craig romance, though. I'll be updating "Bet Me" soon, I'm just having bad writer's block.
> 
> Apologies for any errors, I don't have a beta!   
> Enjoy.

The idea was to send three cars out: two flanked the sides, right and left, and one went down the middle to grab what they needed while the outside cars created a distraction. It was a solid plan; Token had been the mastermind so of course it was a good plan. Token had the best head on his shoulders of their ragtag group.

So it’s dubious as to why Token chose Tweek to be one of the main people in the middle car. 

He jumps out of the car, bandanna pulled up and over his mouth, safety goggles down over his eyes, and grips his baseball bat tightly. He’s got a lot of zombie kills, he pretty proficient with a bat and is thankful his mom encouraged him to play baseball for a couple of years in middle school. It was something he was surprisingly good at. But he's still a spaz, still nervous every time they do this. 

His sneakers hit the ground and slide on a bit of gravel. His companions get out as well: Bebe in all her post apocalyptia glory, blonde hair pulled into space buns, white skin somehow blemish free despite the fact they ran out of face wash a week ago, and red lipstick applied perfectly because you can’t fight in the apocalypse if you’re not cute; Craig clad in black skinny jeans and a dirty white v neck, armed with a cross bow, and arrows slung on his back, army knife clipped to his belt.

“Let’s go,” Craig commands, pushing Tweek forward and bringing up the rear. They always keep Tweek in the middle. 

A black Jeep with the soft top off speeds by to their left, and a horde of slow moving zombies turn their head in its directions. Tweek’s running but he turns to look as well, sees Red with her bright fiery hair whipping in the wind as she leans dangerously out of the top of the Jeep, screaming and hollering. Token’s at the wheel, and even from where Tweek is he can tell that Token is laughing at whatever Red is screaming out at the zombies. 

To their right a beat up gold mini van does really bad donuts, burning rubber and catching the attention of the zombies to their right. Clyde’s halfway out the window of the drivers seat, waving his left arm and honking his horn. Kenny had pulled the backseat of the drivers side open and had two Nerf guns aimed at the confused and interested hoard. The blonde lets out a loud war cry and begins pelting zombies at random with the soft bullets.

Tweek stifles a laugh as the zombies amble away from the center and towards Clyde’s minivan. So far so good, he thinks. Bebe bends down and unlocks the chain fastened around the grocery store doors before unlocking the door itself. They’d done this a while ago, keeping it locked up, to keep the zombies out. So far it had worked like a charm whenever they needed a supply run. The chain slides off and Bebe wraps it around her knuckles in a makeshift weapon. “Let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

Tweek and Craig nod and run inside. Once there Bebe chains the door again, and they’re safe. For the moment, at least.

They’d planned this really well. When the first signs of impending doom rained down upon them Clyde had the foresight to say that they make the small, family owned grocery store (which he used to manage) their source of food in case of emergency. He had the keys to the store, and surprisingly the windows were shatterproof when Mr. Culpepper --who owned it in life, rest his soul-- got broken into five years back and decided to replace them with a stronger model. They’d cleared the place of fresh fruit and vegetables early on, and kept the meat in a freezer back at what Token lovingly and without irony calls, “Home Base”. Every couple of weeks they make a run for things they need. Depleting all resources seems unsafe, in case they have to leave quickly, so they’re fairly rational about how much they take at any given time. The chain keeps zombies and other looters in the area out. 

“Craig, you grab water. Tweek, you’re on canned food duty. I’m going to stock up on toiletries and basic hygiene supplies. Let’s meet back here in ten minutes, okay?” Bebe doles out orders that the two boys agree with. Tweek slings the duffle bag high on his shoulders and bolts. Even though he knows it’s safe this place makes him nervous. His shoes make soft squeaking sounds on the linoleum. He hears Craig stacking cases of water and lifting them with ease. Tweek steps onto his tip-toes to look over the shelves and maybe catch a glimpse of Craig’s muscles in action. No such luck. He resides himself to his canned food doom and begins to cherry pick at items.

They’re thrifty, never taking more than they need, but enough of a variety to keep it from getting boring. He grabs instant potatoes for Clyde, shells and cheese for Bebe and Red, rice and green beans and chickpeas and corn because they’re all crowd pleasers. Once his bag is full, and weighs more than himself, he hulks it back up onto his shoulder and heads back. He can hear Bebe humming a couple of aisles over, and can see Craig sitting on two cases of water near the entrance with two more jugs by his feet. The screeching of tires, the beat of music and screaming still echoes so they know everyone’s still safe. Ideally. Tweek feels himself get nervous as he approaches Craig.

Craig looks up at him with bored eyes. “Did you get Clyde’s potatoes?” He asks when Tweek is a foot away from him. Tweek scowls.

“Of course I did,” he snaps irritably, voice muffled by the bandanna. He forgot once and Craig never lets him forget. “If you think I’m such a, ngh, fuck up why keep inviting me?”

Craig’s response is a shrug. Tweek sighs and shifts his weight. Bebe comes trotting up, her own bag full of necessary toiletries: hand soap, face wash, tampons, paper towels and toilet paper. “You boys ready?” She asks cocking her head. One strand of blonde hair has fallen out of its bun and dangles down near her face. They nod at her and she goes to unlock the door. She opens it slightly and peeks out. “Looks clear. Go straight for the car. I’ll be there shortly.”

Tweek tightens his grip on his bag and the strap of his bag. He prays he won’t trip over his feet and look like an idiot. Or get bitten. Craig hauls a case of water on each shoulder, one jug in each hand. Bebe swings the door open and Craig’s long legs move, darting out into the parking lot. Tweek is next, struggling to keep the weight from toppling him over. Bebe swings out, locking and latching the door, pocketing the key and following behind Tweek. 

Token is playing Pat Benatar’s ‘Heartbreaker’ over his stereo. Somehow, amongst the pounding in his chest and the groans of the zombies, he can still hear Kenny and Clyde singing along off key. He hears Craig joining in as he reaches the car and tosses his items in the trunk. He jumps into the backseat, and takes Bebe’s bag as she hops into the passenger side. Craig honks the horn once, a short burst of sound to alert the others of their success, then peels out of the parking lot followed shortly by Token and Clyde. The zombies amble about, attempting to follow, but they slowly turn into dots in the distance.

They make it back to Home Base: the abandoned husk of Park High School. The metal gate they’d spent months putting up and reinforcing opens when they get close, and shuts behind them. A few zombies who have heard the noise clamber up and bang their heavy bodies against the fence which shivers but stands resolute.

The group parks their cars close to the entrance and unpacks slowly. “You got my potatoes?” Clyde asks with wide blue eyes as he grabs Tweek’s bag for him.

“Y-yes, Clyde,” he groans and takes one of the water jugs. Red and Token are talking to one another near the front door. Everyone has one key to the school; some of them have the key to the padlock, others to the door itself. No one has both, just in case something happens. 

Once inside the doors are locked up tight and they all make their way to the science section of the building. The stairs have been all hacked away, unclimbable and reduced to rubble. From the second story balcony of the building a blond head pops out, blue eyes shiny in the dark.

“Hey there fellas!” Butters greets and waves from on high. Kenny winks at him and blows a kiss. Butters giggles and drops a ladder down from the balcony for them. They climb up with what they can carry; the rest will be hauled up using a lift Token and Red put together. 

Tweek feels safe once he’s on the second story and collapses on one of the cloth chairs they keep for guard duty. The bandanna around his neck feels itchy so he rips it off and folds it to put in his pocket. Craig walks past him, ignoring him and talking with Bebe. Tweek feels jealousy pulse in his veins.

“How’d it all go, Tweek?” Butters asks, skipping over and sitting next to Tweek on the other open chair. Butters soft hand pats him on the back, rubs soothing circles. Tweek leans into the touch, hating how starved he is for human contact. 

“Ngh, pretty well. I got a lot of different things so hopefully no one gets bored.”

“I’m sure you did great,” Butter says cheerfully, a wide smile on his cherubic face. “I sure wish I could go with you guys some day.” He sighs. They watch as Kenny and Clyde pull on the ropes to haul up the cases of water. Once that’s done Token pulls the ladder back up and tucks it where no one will trip over it and the rest of them disappear down the corridor towards the common area. 

Butters joined them a month or so ago. He’d been in Cartman’s camp, but something happened and he’d reached out to Kenny for help. 

Kenny had woken everyone up at 1am one night, frantic and manic, saying he needed someone to go with him, he had to leave now, now, now. It had taken Bebe and Token to calm him down enough to explain that Butters had sent out an SOS. Kenny, Token and Bebe had left. Tweek couldn’t go back to sleep after the commotion and the anxiety, so he’d kept watch at the second story balcony, waiting for signs that his friends were coming back. Red had brought him horrible instant coffee before she went back to sleep, and he’d sipped it in between looking down at the first floor and out the second story window. The moon was bright and Tweek could see a few of the undead roaming the outskirts of the school. He was thankful Park High was small, or the fence would have taken them way longer to build. 

At around 5:30am he saw a cloud of dirt rise up off the road and then the Jeep pull up to the fence. He watched Token scale the fence to open it from the inside (this was before they had an electrical system to open it with a button) and usher the Jeep in. Tweek was electric with energy and looked over the balcony to see who was back. Two minutes later he heard feet on linoleum and saw four people: Bebe with a ratty, baby blue backpack on her shoulder, Token with his shotgun, and Kenny carrying a small, frail looking Butters on his back. Tweek dropped the ladder and everyone filed up. Once Kenny got up and Tweek had put the ladder away he’d followed the four to the common area: two classrooms they’d busted the wall between to make one giant room, complete with stools and tables razed from various classrooms, and bean bag chairs they’d stolen from Walmart. 

Kenny gently put Butters onto one of the tables, while Bebe put the backpack down next to him and left for the first aid kit. Butters wouldn’t look up, even when Kenny whispered and spoke to him. Finally Tweek had gone over and with a shaky hand had touched Butters trembling shoulder. The blonde head shot up and Tweek nearly screamed. 

Butters face was a mess of bruising, and dried blood. He had a large, open, oozing gash above his eyebrow that needed to be stitched shut. One eye was swollen and swallowed by a purple shiner. His lips were cracked and bleeding. When he parted his lip Tweek could see he was missing a tooth.

Cartman had done this, Butters didn’t need to spell it out. Tweek could see the bones poking through Butters sallow skin, the malnourishment obvious and heartbreaking. Kenny told Tweek later that Butter’s had severe bruising all over his body, and he wasn't sure how Butters had been able to sit comfortably, and Tweek didn’t need to ask to know what he meant.

He’d been with them ever since, but Kenny refused to let him leave the base. Tweek couldn’t blame Butters for wanting to get out; it could be stifling inside the building. Butters didn’t complain, though, and he took it like a champ. He cleaned and cooked and was the happiest out of all of them, despite the chaos lurking just outside the four walls of the school. 

“M-maybe one day. Kenny just doesn’t want Cartman to snatch you back,” Tweek said, hoping his voice was light and positive.

“I sure hope so. C’mon. I made chicken and dumplings.” The two blondes walked to the common area where everyone was milling about. They’d went to Token’s house a while back and brought back a television, game systems, board games, a radio, a blessed coffee pot for Tweek, and other things. The place was starting to feel like home. 

It had been Red who initially suggested the school as their base.

“They have a backup generator we can use, so we’ll have power. Half the building has a second floor so we can bomb the staircase and use a ladder so they can’t get to us. The science side has fridges and freezers where we can keep perishable food. We’d be good for a while if we do it right,” she’d mapped out the plan at Token’s, weeks after the dead began to walk. At the time it had been just Token, Red, Clyde, Craig and Tweek, all home for Spring Break weekend before the news had broke that it was more than just a couple of random cases. It was an epidemic. After that no one had thought to go back to their respective college campuses. 

They’d picked Bebe and Kenny up on a supply run, watching Kenny try to break the lock on the grocery store while Bebe hacked into the undead that had begun to swarm them.

They’d been together since.

Every once in a while they’d get news from family, if they were living, and other encampments of friends: Stan and Kyle were at Jimbo’s farm with their families, armed to the teeth with weapons and an underground bunker. Occasionally they met up to exchange ammo or rations or just to talk. They seemed to be doing well.

Cartman had taken up at the airport Hilton. They didn’t speak with him much, obviously. He tried to come for Butters shortly after he’d arrived at base. Craig and Kenny has told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. He’d threatened to burn their camp to the ground. “Fucking try it, fat ass.” Kenny had snarled through the fence, fearless and unhinged.

The night of the supply run they ate dinner together all talking animatedly, happy and unburdened. Any time a run was done without casualties was a good day. Tweek enjoyed his food next to Butters, keeping quiet but eyeing Craig across the table. Craig was discussing something with Red, and was waving his fork around as if to make a point. Once dinner was done Tweek helped Butters clean up in their makeshift kitchen area. They had the common area, the kitchen area (a classroom that had the walk in freezer that used to be full of dead pigs and cats for dissection, and multiple tubs attached to the end of desks), and the bedrooms where everyone bunked down. Token, Red, Clyde and Bebe shared the largest room all together; Kenny and Butters had one, and for some reason Tweek couldn’t figure out, that left he and Craig with one. Clyde has offered to let Craig move in with them but he’d denied. Tweek kinda wished he’d taken the offer. 

Once the dishes are done Tweek makes a pot of coffee, and tells everyone goodnight. He makes his way to his room, and shuts the door behind him. It’s a small room, one of the smaller classrooms in the building, but it’s homey. Tweek has his sleeping bag and pillows on one side of the room with Craig’s on the other. There’s clothes strewn about on each side, as neither boy can seem to use the hampers they took for such a purpose. Tweek pulls back a stool and sits at a desk, dangling his legs and sipping his coffee. It’s a moonless night, and outside the windows it’s quiet, just a few bodies milling around. Tweek watches them curiously, wondering if there’s any thoughts or reasons behind their destination. Probably something primal, he thinks and sips his drink.

He’s still there when the door opens an hour later, his coffee long gone, but he remains in place. “Hey it’s past nine,” Craig’s monotone voice drifts over, “Lights out.” And then the lights are gone and Tweek is in darkness. He yelps and almost drops his mug. They do this every night but it still startles Tweek; he doesn’t like the dark but they all decided early on to cut the lights at nine, signaling bed time for most of them. Craig moves quietly around the room, lighting candles and turning on the small night lights they have scrounged up. By the time he’s done there’s a dim glow in the room, enough to see each other. Craig goes to stand by the window, looks outward and crosses his arms over his chest.

Tweek watches him, he always does. He’s loved Craig for years, so anytime he can simply sit and watch him is nice. Tweek fiddles with his coffee mug, tracing his index finger around the rim and looking Craig up and down: a nice profile, strong jawline complete with stubble, shaggy black hair, and a body that makes Tweek want to whine aloud.

“Why are you always staring at me?” Craig’s voice cuts through his thoughts. Tweek winces, mad at himself for getting caught.

“I’m not always, gah, staring!”

“You are so,” Craig turns his brown eyes on Tweek. “Are you, like, in love with me or something?” The words come out flat, uninterested, but Tweek can read Craig’s body language. He’s interested.

Tweek juts his chin out defiantly, “What if I am? Is that gonna bother you?” Tweek has grown past his feeble pushover days, and okay, he’s still a semi-pushover but he bites back now. No one gets to just push him around and get away with it; not that many people have tried since he lost his mind and broke Cartman’s nose in tenth grade when Cartman called him a schizophrenic faggot and flushed his Prozac down the toilet. Most people just leave him alone, and he likes it that way.

Craig smirks, “Would it bother you if it bothered me?”

“I don’t have time for this back and forth b-bullshit, Craig,” Tweek scoffs, pushing his stool back and jumping down. “Believe what you want. I’m going to bed.” He waves dismissively at Craig and moves to where his sleeping bag is. As he takes off his sneakers, socks, and begins to unbuckle his pants he can feel Craig’s eyes on him. Tweek begins to feel clammy and wipes his sweaty hands on his pants and he pulls them down. There’s no pajama pants within reach, and the ones nearby would force him to turn and face Craig and that’s just not happening because he’s also sort of hard, his cock struggling against his briefs and throbbing against his thigh.

Tweek sighs and shuts his eyes, willing himself to calm down. Then he feels hands snaking around either side of him, and he freezes. Suddenly Craig is there, pressed behind him, and large hands warm on Tweek’s stomach, thumbs just lightly under the waist band of his briefs. His breath hitches when he feels Craig’s breath on his throat, and feels warm, soft lips pressed to the flesh there. “I’m dreaming,” Tweek thinks, but ends up saying out loud.

“Ssh,” Craig hushes, moving one hand flat against Tweek’s stomach, pulling him back tightly into Craig and slipping the other hand inside his underwear. Tweek’s heart is pounding and his throat is dry; he’s pressed so tightly against Craig he can feel the other boys heart hammering, too, and that’s a sort of comfort in and of itself. “Move,” Craig’s voice growls low in Tweek’s ear. They shuffle forward until Tweek’s knees hit a desk, and his hands shoot out to push against the desk top so he doesn’t fly forward. Craig is still pressed tightly against him, hands still dipping lower and holding him in place.

“Ngh, wh-what are you doing?” Tweek hates how husky and whiny his voice sounds. Craig rolls his hips forward, and Tweek whimpers when he feels Craig’s erection pressed against him.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Craig coos, hand wrapping around Tweek’s cock, thumb brushing over the head, smearing drops of pre-cum around the head. Tweek is seeing stars behind his eyelids. “C’mon Tweek, tell me what you want.”

Craig’s voice feels like a drug, making Tweek’s head spin. His cock twitches in Craig’s hand as the other boy begins slow strokes. Tweek can feel the calluses on Craig’s palms, can feel Craig’s own erection straining against his jeans, pressing against Tweek’s back. “Ngh, fuck, Craig,” Tweek moans, trying to be quiet. Craig’s hand moves expertly, so that Tweek is panting and bucking his hips wildly. He presses back into Craig, causing the black haired boy to moan into Tweek’s neck, his hair, wherever he is. Tweek loves that sound. He wants to turn around, wants to put his mouth on Craig’s, sink his teeth into his lips. Craig’s ministrations continue until Tweek’s feels like he’s going to burst; then, of course, he does, spraying cum into Craig’s hand and on the table.

Tweek pants, sweat beading on his forehead. He hears Craig’s soft laugh, and it makes him twitch. He turns and stares at Craig who is holding the soiled hand up and staring at it with wonder. Tweek watches, glassy eyed and shaking with adrenaline, as Craig sticks his index finger into his mouth, pushing the digit all the way in and pulling it out clean of cum. Tweek feels the groan slip past his lips, feels himself moving forward, spurred on my the post-orgasm feelings and the desire to taste himself on Craig’s lips. His hands are up, pulling Craig’s face down to his, and he can feel the stubble roughly against his palm, and he can see the wonder and shock in Craig’s eyes as Tweek presses their lips together.

Craig tastes like salt and spearmint, like he was chewing gum or eating a mint. Tweek bites softly on the full bottom lip, and Craig’s mouth opens in a shocked little moan that’s enough for Tweek to press on. Craig’s hands fall back to grip Tweek’s hip under his clothing, smearing semen on the skin and the edge of his shirt, fingers digging into the skin. Tweek’s hands shakily move to undo Craig’s belt and unbutton his pants. He moans angrily when his fingers fumble with the button.

“Let me,” Craig says, breathless, lips swollen and perfect. Tweek surges forward, capturing them again.

“Please do,” he mumbles against Craig’s lips, and the taller boy obeys. Once Craig’s pants are off Tweek touches him over his boxers, feeling how stiff and large he is. When Craig keens and thrust into his hand he can’t mask his smile and pulls Craig’s cock out. He returns the favor, swiftly and efficiently, until Craig is moaning loudly and nipping back at Tweek’s lips, thrusting his hips and whispering Tweek’s name in between gulps of breath.

He cums and shivers, the semen splashing in between them, and soaking their t-shirts. Craig’s head drops and he rests his forehead on Tweek’s shoulder. Tweek nips at Craig’s ear, causing another shiver and a slight mewl of pleasure to slip out. Tweek wipes his messy hands on his already soiled shirt and listens to his heart beating rapidly.

“Wh-What was that?” He asks, nervously. Craig’s never given him any indication that he’s interested, so Tweek is unsure where this came from. He’s half certain this is still possibly a dream.

Craig lifts his head up, head lolling back like his head weighs twenty pounds. His brown eyes are calm, a sleepy look on his face. Tweek wonders how long it’s been since Craig’s touched himself. Craig pushes a sticky forehead against Tweek’s own, puffs of breath cascading over the others face.

“You know what that was, Tweek,” Craig says softly.

“Why, why me?”

“Does it matter?” There’s an edge in Craig’s voice that Tweek loathes.

“Yes,” he says honestly.

Craig hums, eyes searching Tweek’s before he dips in and softly kisses Tweek. “Maybe I like you, asshole.”

Tweek can’t help but grin, a bubble of laughter working its way out of his throat. “I like you t-too, jack off.”

At that moment, exhausted and sweaty, satiated and somehow happier than he’s been in years, despite the low moans of the undead and the circumstances they’re in, Craig’s smile seems to be enough for Tweek.

-

Time passes, as it always does. 

Tweek never asks Craig about that night, and Craig never offers an explanation aside from what he’d already said. But Craig starts to act nicer to Tweek in front of other people; long stares and soft smirks and even softer touches to his knee, his arm, his thigh under the dinner table or in the common area. Craig makes Tweek coffee on the nights he has guard duty, and stays with him until his eyes are closing. They mash their sleeping bags together and lay in each others arms, waking up sweaty and hot and hard, more often than not. Craig kisses Tweek when no one is looking, which makes Tweek squawk like a parrot. Tweek whispers filthy words in Craig’s ears that he knows will make him turn bright red when they’re all together.

They don’t need words to define this, whatever this is, because actions are enough.

Three months after The Incident there’s a breech in the fence. Someone (re: Cartman) had cut snippets of the fence, allowing a couple of zombies to work their way through. Butters had almost been attacked when he was working on his little garden, tending to his tomatoes in the makeshift greenhouse behind the school. Luckily Tweek had been with him, and when he heard the low moan he’d ordered Butters behind him against the wall and radioed for backup on the walkie talkies they used for things like this.

The zombie had ambled into sight, leg half eaten by wildlife, reeking of death and the stench of meat, oozing from its eyes and ears and mouth. It dragged it’s leg, slowly moving toward the two. Tweek pulled his bandanna up, pushed his goggles down and lifted the bat. “If this thing gets past me, you r-run to base, okay? Do not, gah, wait around to see what happens. You duck around him and you go. Do you hear me B-Butters?”

“Y-yes sir,” Butters soft voice says, fear making him waver and shiver.

Tweek isn’t anticipating this being difficult, but he wants to be realistic. He holds the bat up, aims for the zombies head and swings. There’s a sickening crack, and blood splatters on his clothing and goggles. The zombie collapses and Tweek bashes it’s head until he sees gray matter. When he looks up he’s surprised to see three more zombies clambering over one another to get through the front doorway. Butters whimpers, and Tweek feels panic settle in.

The greenhouse is a converted janitorial shack they set up to house their attempts to grow food. It had plenty of windows for sunlight and they’d done what they could to make it work. So far it had, but none of the windows open and there’s a back door that’s generally kept locked tight. The only real way out is in front of them where the three undead are blocking the way. The inside is small and Tweek worries about accidentally hitting Butters if they get too close. He backs up but keeps his eyes ahead, praying that back up is coming. Butters grabs onto his shirt and presses a wet face into the clothing.

“Ngh, we’re gonna be o-okay, Butters. I want you to get under that table to our right and try to sneak out while I take care of them, okay?” One zombie has completely gotten in and it’s milky eyes are locked on the two of them. The other two are fighting one another to get inside, jaws chomping and leaking viscous spittle and drool.

“Okay, Tweek. Please be careful,” Butters begs and bends down to duck under the table with the planters and gardening supplies. He shuffles forward, staying mostly hidden but for the shock of blonde hair. Tweek turns his attention back to the undead that’s moving towards him. It opens its mouth, rotting teeth and tongue inside a black void of decay; it lunges, one hand outstretched to grab onto Tweek. He hears Butter cry out as he holds the bat horizontal, blocking the bite and the hand and pushes back with all his strength. The zombie falls backwards, but regains it’s footing. The other two have gotten inside, now and Tweek feels himself losing all confidence. Three zombies is nothing in an open area, but in closed quarters it’s dangerous.

He connects the bat with the first zombies knee, shattering the bone and toppling it. He brings his foot down to crush the head, heel kicking the temporal bone repeatedly until he feels mush under his sneakers and the zombie stops moving. He pushes the smaller one backwards into Butters tomato plants, and it clambers to the floor, toppling the table and sending dirt everywhere as the last one hastens forward. Tweek smashes the bat into its neck, sending it sideways but not downing it. It grabs onto Tweek’s shirt on the way down, and in a panic Tweek screams and flails, his bat falling just out of his grasp.

His eyes search frantically for anything. Butters is crawling out of the doorway, looking back with panicked eyes, mouth open in a silent scream. “Go!” Tweek yells as the last two zombies are crawling to him, the closest one still gripped onto his shirt, jaws snapping furiously in an attempt for a bite. Tweek manages to smash a pot on its head, dazing it enough to let go. He scrambles back, but his weapons still out of reach. There’s nothing nearby but water cans and mulch. 

His eyes sting with furious tears, because he’s going to die here. He hopes that Craig will kill him quickly when he turns, if there’s enough of him to turn.

The zombie closest to him is crawling towards him quickly, breathing thickly and chomping it’s rotted, black mouth.

Tweek closes his eyes.

But then there’s a horrible, wet, squelching noise. Then another, and another; quick, back to back. A groan from the zombie and then the sound of a body dropping. Tweek opens one eye, but there’s now fresh blood on his goggles so it’s hard to see through it.

“Tweek, are you okay?” Token’s voice reaches him. He pulls the goggles up, and nearly cries out in joy. Craig is bending down in front of him, combat knife stuck in the un-moving zombies head. Token is just behind him, bloody axe freshly pulled from the smaller zombie. He's safe. 

Craig's hands move over Tweek, checking for injuries or bites. He's breathing hard, and so Tweek reaches out to touch his arm. His mouth isn't working, but he hopes the touch relays what he can't say out loud. Craig's brown eyes shoot up, locking onto Tweeks. “You're okay?” he asks, and Tweek has never heard such fear come from Craig. 

Tweek nods, feels tears well up that he can't stop. “You saved me,” he sobs into Craig's chest. 

“Yeah right,” Craig teases, pulling Tweek back to look at him, “You'd have been fine, asshole.” Craig kisses Tweek's tear stained cheeks. Tweek hears Token and Butters pulling the corpses from the greenhouse, and hears Token whistle lowly when Craig kisses Tweek deeply. When Tweek pulls back, unable to hold back his laughter, he sees Craig has given Token the middle finger. 

Butters is grinning behind them, looking thankful that Tweek is okay. “Awe, guys. I think that's so sweet. Why, you guys are just the cutest. Don't you think, Token?” 

“I do think so, in fact, Butters,” Token says as Craig stands and offers a hand to Tweek. Tweek stands, and brushes the soil off himself. The greenhouse is a disaster, and it makes Tweek feel bad for Butters who had worked so hard on it. He turns nervously to Butters, ready to apologize. 

The smaller blonde is bent over picking up remnants of potted plants and his beloved tomatoes. There's blood smeared everywhere, and maybe it's just him but all Tweek can smell is death. 

“Clyde and Red are working on the hole in the fence. Should be patched shortly. Let's go back to base,” Craig says. Tweek shakes his head. 

“No, I should help Butters clean this up,” he says. Butters looks up and smiles widely with his toothy grin. Tweek sends a small smile back, then looks to Craig. Craig looks nervous, like he doesn't want to leave Tweek alone, like Tweek has just shown that he can't take care of himself (despite how calm he's being, and despite his history of being helpful when they've dealt with swarms). Tweek puts a hand on Craig's shoulder and stands up on his tippy toes to plant a soft kiss against the other boys lips. “I'll be fine,” he says, and his voice doesn't shake. Craig lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging for just a moment. 

-

Token is smirking as they walk back to Home Base, the bloodied ax perched on his shoulder lazily. “So,” he begins, “You and Tweek?”

Craig bristles, though he knows it’s unfair to get defensive. He chews his cheek and turns to look at Token. “Yup,” he casually says. They make it to the front door, both using their separate keys to unlock it and enter. Sunlight streams in through the buildings windows, making it feel warm and alive despite the disrepair of the innards. They walk in amiable silence for a couple of moments before getting to the second story balcony. Craig whistles and Kenny’s head pops over, surveying them before dropping down the ladder. Once they’re up they move towards the bathrooms.

They wash off the grime from their hands and faces in silence. “How long did it take you?” Token asks.   
“Too long,” Craig responds, wiping his face with a hand towel. He looks at himself and purses his lips. His eyes are bright and shiny, skin tanned from being outside and the stubble on his face is growing more. “I need to shave,” he comments in an attempt to deter Token who fishes in their storage container for a razor before handing it, and some shaving cream, over to Craig. As Craig works the razor over his skin Token leans into the sink next to him.

“I’m glad you finally did it, Craig. Watching you pine over him for like, what, ten years? That’s been annoying as fuck.” Token chuckles when Craig flips him off. “Dude we’re twenty one years old. You’ve had a crush on him since fifth grade when you guys broke off your fake dating shit. I don’t know why you waited so long.”

“Is this a rhetorical statement or do you want an actual answer?” Craig snaps irritably, rinsing the razor and tapping the excess shaving cream from the blade before wiping his face off. He looks much better, and is thankful for the little things. He strides past Token to open his cubby, aptly labeled with his name in sharpie over a piece of masking tape, and drops the razor in along side his face wash, body wash and extra towels.

“You don’t have to get defensive,” Token says, “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just. I can’t figure out what took you so long. He’s been in love with you for ages. You had to have seen that.”

“I didn’t. I guess I just assumed that since we fell apart he didn’t like me. I didn’t even know he liked men, he just seemed kind of asexual,” he sighs tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. “And then prom happened and that was great, but he wouldn’t even look me in the eye until graduation. Then we both went to different colleges and lost contact except for intermittent texts.”

Token snorts, “You’re both so dumb.”

“You’re probably right,” Craig agrees and nods in the direction of the door. They grab the hampers full of dirty towels and let the door shut behind them. “Better late than never.”

“What better time than the zombie apocalypse,” Token says and elbows Craig. They both laugh and somehow Craig feels lighter.

-

Five months later a cure is developed by a small group of scientists who had been holed up at the CDC, in conjunction with scientists oversees who were trying to stop the spread of infection before it gets to them. 

It’s been one full year and eight months since the first outbreak had occurred, and they’d successfully created a serum that could be air dropped over major cities which caused the virus to disintegrate inside its host, thereby causing the living dead to literally fall apart and finally, blessedly, die.

Tweek doesn’t understand the entire thing because he’s so relieved that he almost blacks out.

Everyone is in the common area when it’s announced, huddled around the television that is airing the news on repeat. The US Air Force, what remains of it anyways, are going to test it on a smaller scale, first in Fort Bragg, North Carolina because the base there is huge and well stocked with planes. If that’s a success then other major cities will get the air drop.

Once it’s announced there’s a lot of celebrating. Bebe breaks down in tears while Clyde bear hugs her off the ground, spinning her around. Butters and Kenny look relieved, their hands clasped tightly together, knuckles white. Token runs out of the room, likely to grab booze from his super secret hidden stash, and Red lets out a loud, “Fuck yes!”

Craig and Tweek stand quietly next to one another, and when Tweek’s knees begin to give out Craig catches him in strong arms. “Hey, you okay?” Craig asks as he puts Tweek down on a stool and eyes him over nervously. Tweek clutches at Craig’s arms, digging crescents into his skin. Craig doesn’t seem to mind. “Tweek, babe, look at me,” he whispers, peppering the blondes face with soft kisses.

It’s not that Tweek isn’t relieved by this news, because he is. What he's worried about is when things go back to normal. Will he still see Craig? Will Craig want to be with him when he’s not the only person available who reciprocates these feelings? Will Craig even still like him when there’s better, more stable people out there?

His breath hitches and he doubles over, putting his head between his knees. Tweek hears Token skid back in with elation and a bottle of bourbon. He hears Butters asking Craig, “Is Tweek okay? Can I do somethin' to help?” To which Craig mumbles back something. Tweek feels himself beginning to cry, and he hates it so he bites his tongue until he tastes blood. The pain overtakes the sadness and he sniffles but sits back up, eyes red rimmed but water-less. Craig looks at him with worry.

Token is pouring shots of bourbon into the high-ball glasses that used to belong to Token's parents. Red thrusts a cup into Tweek and Craig’s hands, and the cup is cold to the touch, the bourbon had obviously been hidden in one of the freezers. Tweek brings the cup to his lips and inhaled the scent of oak and vanilla and alcohol. They don’t drink often, preferring to keep their wits about them but today seems like a day to celebrate, even though Tweek feels like the rug is being pulled from under his feet. Tweek can’t hear the toast Token makes. The words are garbled, he can’t understand. But he gets the gist: to friends and survival and brighter days blah, blah, blah.

They all clink glasses and knock back the drink. Clyde protests loudly at the lack of chaser and Kenny laughs at him loudly while making chicken clucks at him. Butters face goes red and he presses his hands to his cheeks while scrunching his nose. He catches Tweek staring at him and grins, but all Tweek can see is the hole where Cartman busted his tooth out.

Craig gets pulled into doing more shots with Clyde and Kenny, while Bebe and Red and Token sip slowly from half filled glasses. Craig seems concerned to leave Tweek’s side, but he’s pulled into the fray regardless and Tweek offers a meek smile to assure him that he’s okay. He refills his own glass, adding water to it as well, and sips quicker than he should.

The night progresses and the bourbon begins to empty. There’s video game tournaments where Clyde almost cries because Bebe kicks his ass in Street Fighter, and Butters somehow decimates everyone Smash Bros. They eat peanut butter sandwiches and snack on tomatoes and cucumbers from Butters little garden. As the day turns to night Kenny, the soberest of them, offers to stay up for guard duty and Butters, tipsy and flushed and giggling, offers to accompany him. Bebe and Red are laying on bean bags chatting happily on what they’re going to do once the undead are gone. Clyde and Token are arguing over who is better, Superman or Spider-man. Craig is sitting with them holding in laughter.

Tweek stares for a bit, enjoying the way Craig is when he’s unguarded and happy, smiling and at ease. Tweek loves him in these moments of quiet observation. He loves him all the time, but there’s something special about these secret moments.

He knocks back his drink, sufficiently tipsy and woozy. When he leaves the room he’s not surprised that no one notices. Everyone likes Tweek, but no one really pays attention to him; except Craig, sometimes Butters. He stumbles toward his room and shuts the door, slumping against it and feeling his legs giving out.

He has to talk to Craig, but he’s in no state and he doesn’t want to ruin the night. Tweek feels like self destructing, and maybe he will. Maybe if he controls how Craig leaves it won’t hurt as badly. He lets out a sad, pathetic laugh into the emptiness of the room.

The door handle jiggles and he hears Craig cursing outside the door. Tweek scrambles to get up and Craig pushes the door open softly, poking his dark haired head inside. “Hey,” he breaks into a wide grin.

“H-Hi,” Tweek responds. He turns and begins to busy himself with lighting the candles and turning on the night lights. It’s 8:30, so lights out is soon. He scans the area outside the window and sees no walking dead. It’s been surprisingly quiet since they cleared out the town with Stan and Kyle a month ago. Tweek thinks it’s lucky they got the slow moving zombies instead of those ones that can run and sprint with no need for catching their breath.

The door shuts with a soft click and he looks over his shoulder to see Craig leaning against it looking nervous. Or drunk. Maybe both, Tweek thinks and wavers a little on his feet.

“What’s wrong?” Craig blurts out.

“Nothing,” Tweek lies and he can tell that Craig knows it’s a lie. “I don’t w-wanna talk about it, gah! It’ll ruin your mood.”

Craig takes a step forward toward Tweek, hand reaching out to grasp onto the small, pale wrist. “Talk to me. You looked terrified when the news hit. But this, this is a good thing. Things will go back to normal.”

Tweek supposed the words are meant as a comfort but they feel like lead in his stomach. “That’s the fucking problem!” He bellows. He hadn’t meant to explode; he has had such a good hold on his emotions and his mood swings but it all seems to be unraveling. He’d like to blame the bourbon, but that’s irresponsible.

It’s all him.

“What’s the problem? You want us to keep living on the floor of our old science classroom, scrounging for food and stabbing strangers in the neck when they turn into zombies?”

“This is home, Craig. Agh, it’s been home for almost two years.”

“Don’t you miss your bed? A normal shower? The comforts of every day life?”

“I’m content here, with you.”

“And I’m glad you’re here with me, but I don’t see what the big deal is. You’ll still have me when this is over.” Craig’s eyes are begging Tweek to understand, but Tweek feels like he’s in a roller coaster that’s over the first hill and he can’t stop the downhill slope.

“Will I, though?”

Craig pauses, a look of shock dashes across his features. He straightens. “What’s that mean?”

“Wh-when everything gets back to normal you’ll have to finish school. You’ll go back to CSU,” Tweek points out. “You won’t have to scrounge around with me. Everyone will get back to their normal lives. Everyone will leave.” 

'I’ll be alone again' remains unspoken.

Craig bites his lip. “Of course things will go back to normal, but they’re never going be to the same before this happened. Tweek, half of our families are dead or gone. Who knows how many people have been killed. It’s not like I’m gonna see zombies disappearing and be like, ‘Wow fuck Tweek! I can’t wait to go back to studying for my accounting exam!’” Craig didn’t mean for it to sound sarcastic but it does and he can see anger fan out on Tweek’s face, redness starting in his cheeks and running down his neck.

“Gah, you’re such a f-fucking asshole!” Tweek snarls.

“You’re insecure and you need to get the fuck over yourself!” Craig snaps back, drunk and irritated and hating this.

“Look whose talking, mister big time scholarship, mister accounting major! You can still have a productive life, and a career. I’m going to be stuck in this shit hole town managing the gutted remnants of my parents coffee shop because there’s no way I can go back to community college now. And you’ll leave and I won’t see you again until you come back for our ten year high school reunion with your fucking wife and two year old on your hip, and you know what Craig? I hope you are balding when that happens because I don’t think I could stand to see you with anyone else. I’d rather drink bleach, or walk out into a field of those zombies and be disintegrated.” The words are vicious and come out like vomit; he cannot stop it. He didn’t mean to be so neurotic and honest and crude. But this is his true nature, so who is he to deny it?

“This is too much pressure,” he whispers, deflating. All he wants is to sink into Craig, and kiss him and be with him. He feels so weak, it’s pitiful, that all of his effort to be normal and calm and to suppress the more insane part of himself have failed so miserably.

He feels Craig’s presence in front of him. Then he’s pulled close into Craig’s chest, the heartbeat hammering like a caged bird. “You’re so fucking dumb,” Craig whispers without malice.

Tweek begins to cry.

“I’m not going to leave you, Tweek. Even if things get back to any kind of normal I wasn’t planning to leave you. If you’re staying in South Park I will, too. I can do online classes or travel to the ones on campus. I’ll find a job close by. We’ll live in Token’s basement if we have to. But I....” He pauses, the words caught in his throat. Tweek stiffens in his arms. 

“I promise you I'm not going anywhere,” Craig finishes. He feels like this is a lame finish, but it's true and he's never been much for words. Tweek grabs onto Craig's jacket and twists the material, his forehead against Craig's sternum. “I love you.” Craig blurts out, cupping Tweek's head in his rough hands. 

The blonde's lip trembles, and he mouths the words, repeating them back in a silent mantra. Craig loves him. Craig loves him. Craig smells of bourbon, and sweat. Tweek can see little beads of sweat on his temples. 

He should say something, shouldn't he? Tweek inhales air and it turns into a sob. 

-

It took about three years for things to get back to what you'd call “normal”. 

The antidote, serum, cure, whatever you want to call it worked. Then there had to be crews to clean up the remains, because animals tended to avoid the rotting organs and flesh. Token, Clyde, and Craig all volunteered to help for Colorado. They were gone a month, and when they came back to Token's house (now Home Base: Two) they looked exhausted but confident. It was really over, they told everyone. 

Tweek's parents had died during the outbreak, and Tweek did end up taking over their coffee shop. After purging it of the drugs in the backroom (honestly, how had those not been stolen by some hillbilly junkie??) he began remodeling. He painted the walls, bought new equipment, filled out order forms, stocked the shelves and the backroom. He and Craig took the decent furniture they found when they cleaned up the houses in South Park and re-purposed them. It took a whole year for them to get it up and running. 

Year two business was slow. Token and Red went back to college in California, and Bebe moved with her mom to New Mexico where they had family. Clyde opted to stay and be the manager of the grocery store; he told everyone he had no interest in going back to school. Kenny and Butters stayed, too, mostly because Butters inherited his parents house. Butters became a shift supervisor at Tweek Bros Coffee and made really excellent lattes of the day. 

Craig went back to college taking online courses like he promised. Craig's parents had made it, so for the first year or so Tweek and Craig lived with them in Craig's small, old, childhood room. They did a lot of gross, inappropriate things on Craig's roomy twin bed. Craig graduated at the end of year two AZ(After Zombie), and then got his masters in business. 

Tweek's coffee shop did pretty well. Well enough to open shops in the cities around South Park, even expanding into Denver. It was a proud moment. Craig bought Tweek a home at the beginning of year three, and Tweek cried like a baby when Craig proposed the same day, carrying him bridal style across the threshold of their home. 

After a while the zombie invasion seemed like a distant memory, and most of them pushed those horrors, the things they'd done to survive, to the back of their head. A lot of people did die, they'd found out later. Somehow their group had managed okay, as did a couple of others in South Park. Tweek supposed when you live in a quiet mountain town where wacky shit just seems to happen you're better prepared than most. 

Every once in a while Tweek wakes up in his bed, surrounded by pillows, and sees Craig asleep: dried drool in the corner of his mouth, hair all a mess, and its takes him back to their room at Home Base. When this happens he reaches out to touch Craig's face, trace the outline of his cheekbones, his jaw, the shell of his ear. 

It reminds him that this is real, that he can survive anything, and that, for the local psycho kid, he turned out pretty okay.


End file.
